


To Come in from the Rain

by Muccamukk



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, New Jersey, Post-Canon, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 14:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17469338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk
Summary: Nix's cough has been hanging in for a couple of weeks now.





	To Come in from the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kunstvogel.

With the sun setting before five, it seemed like Dick was always coming home in the dark, and the dark and sleet that day. Little balls of ice bounced of the car's wind shield, almost hard enough for Dick to worry about cracking it. It was Nix's car, too, a heavy modern thing that Dick wasn't comfortable driving on slippery roads at night. Seemed like it could spin out into the ditch at any moment. He imagined Nix in the passenger seat, laughing as Dick grimly shifted down and slowed as he turned into their neighbourhood.

Nix usually drove—if he was at all sober—saying it was safer than Dick behind the wheel of anything but an army jeep, but Nix had been home all day nursing a cough and carrying on like he was dying, leaving Dick to face Nixon Nitration Works on his own. Dick had missed being able to steal Nix for lunch, even if he had had appreciated the up tick in productivity that not having Nix around had caused.

Now, as he pulled into the drive, Dick fantasised about a nice hot cup of coco and settling into with Nix on the couch to listen to the radio. _The Shadow_ would be on in a few minutes, and Dick could close his eyes and let Bret Morrison solve everyone's problems with magic and an ominous laugh, his fellow asleep on his shoulder. In the brightest of possibilities, Nix would have made sandwiches, but if not, Dick could fix something.

One of these days, one of them was going to have to learn how to cook. Dick was thinking about his mother's cooking as he made a dash from the car to the door, and didn't notice until he got in that none of the lights were on. Maybe Nix had gone to bed early to try sleep off his cold. It really had been hanging on. Dick had been sleeping in his actual bedroom for a week now so that Nix's cough didn't keep them both up.

Dick tossed his hat on its peg and shook the sleet out of his overcoat. He'd set it over the radiator in a minute. He decided that he'd head into the bedroom and curl up next to Nix for a few minutes warm his hands up on his stomach. Nix always ran hot, and the way he squawked when Dick put cold hands on him never failed to make Dick grin. Nix always treated it like the worst of injustices, but he never actually tried to push Dick away. They'd been like that in Bastogne, when this whole thing between them had been new, and they'd both been terrified of everything except each other.

"Nix?" he called out, softly enough to be heard if Nix had crashed on the couch, but not loud enough to wake someone sleeping in the bedroom.

Dick heard a weak cough from the armchair next to the front hall—the chair that was usually covered in someone's jacket, that no one ever sat in because of the draught from the door.

"Nix?" Dick asked again. He dropped his coat and turned a lamp on.

"Here," Nix mumbled, but Dick had already found him. Nix was slumped in the least-favoured of armchairs, still in his own overcoat, hat fallen to the floor beside him. It looked like he'd sprawled into the chair and then kept sliding down until he was half lying down in it, legs stretched across the floor, head fallen onto his chest. He coughed again, shrugging to press his mouth against his shoulder.

Dick dropped to his knees next to the chair, checking Nix's forehead with the back of his hand. Not feverish, but shivering. His coat was soaked through, and his jacket underneath it the same. _Doesn't have the sense to stay out of the rain_ , Dick thought, but didn't think quoting his mother would get him anywhere just then. "How long you been sitting here?" he asked.

"Dunno, what time is it?" Nix blinked and rubbed his eyes. His hand was shaking badly.

"Almost six o'clock," Dick said. "I stopped at the grocer something for your cough." Which was in his coat pocket, but Dick would try feeding it to Nix later, once he got him warmed up a bit.

"That's funny," Nix said. He tried to lever himself up by his elbows, but ended up doubled over with that dry hacking cough that just didn't seem to give up. "That's where I was going. Then it started raining, or snowing, or whatever the hell it's doing now."

"Sleeting, I guess," Dick said. "You could have called me at the plant." 

Dick took advantage of Nix leaning forward to push the sodden overcoat off his shoulders. Nix tried to tug at the sleeves and just got his watch caught in one cuff and the other bunched around his elbow. He tugged at the crumpled wool listlessly and with no effect. If that was the best he could manage, it was little wonder he'd barely made it past the front door.

"Sorry," Nix muttered, and Dick couldn't tell if it was for something in particular, or just a general state of affairs. He'd take either. Dick tugged first one sleeve free then the other, before starting on the buttons of Nix's suit jacket. Nix hadn't answered how long he'd been here, but Dick guessed it'd been a while. "Kept thinking I'd get up in a minute," Nix said.

Dick shivered, and not at the cold or the memory of cold, but at all those stories of boys lost in the Pennsylvania snow. "Well, you're getting up now," he said, and pulled Nix to his feet. It was a miracle of leverage and mostly brute strength on Dick's part over any kind of effort on Nix's, but Dick got Nix propped against him well enough to dump the overcoat and jacket on the floor and start on his shirt.

"Flattered you think I'm up for it," Nix muttered against Dick's shoulder. He kept trying to help with the buttons, which was no help at all. Dick got enough buttons open at the collar to yank Nix's shirt and undershirt over his head in one go. He'd been soaked to the skin, and was shivering worse now than ever. Probably, Dick realised, because the gas wasn't on and the house was freezing.

"Come on, buddy," Dick said and pulled Nix's arm over his shoulder and dragged him back towards the bedroom. He was glad the master was on the ground floor. If they'd been trying to get Nix of to Dick's room on top of the steep, twisting stair, they'd have been sunk. They might be sunk now. Nix's cough didn't sound dangerous, but his face was grey and bare skin clammy to against the back of Dick's neck. Dick didn't like how hard he was shivering.

Dick dumped Nix onto the bed and found a set of heavy flannel pyjamas to change him into. Getting Nix's shoes, socks, pants and underwear off turned out to be easier than getting the dry clothes on over damp skin, especially when Nix started helping. Dick was tired and hungry, and the worry pooling in his gut wasn't helping his mood any. The third time Nix tried to get his arm in the pyjama sleeve and just managed to tangle what Dick was trying to do, Dick snapped, "Look, let me do it, will you?" in a tone harsh enough to bring Nix to a blinking halt. Dick forced his tone to gentleness as he said, "Let me look after you, huh?"

"All right," Nix said, and Dick felt both sorry and sick at the way Nix's head dropped. There wasn't any fight left in him.

It went easier after that at least. When Dick had Nix dressed and under the covers, still coughing brokenly, Dick went and lit the stove and put a full kettle on for hot water bottles and tea. He didn't want to leave Nix, but he didn't think that a change of clothes and going to bed would do much either. 

He turned the heat on while the kettle heated, and then paced the kitchen, considering calling a doctor, or at least his mother. They'd been out of the army for over a year, and Dick still hadn't gotten used to not having any service he could wish for a runner's distance away. He half wished for Eugene Roe, but the boy was safely back in Louisiana, doing something with as few reminders of doctoring as he could find.

It was just a cough. Nix had gotten wet and chilled, and had a cough. Dick filled two hot water bottles from the kettle and then didn't have enough left for tea. He should have set a pot boiling, but it was too late now, so he refilled the kettle and set it back on the stove.

Nix had curled up into the smallest ball humanly possible—disappearing under the covers save for the top of his hair, which the lamplight made black against the pillow. The whole pile of quilts and feather comforters shook with how hard Nix was shivering, worse now than when Dick had gotten him in. Dick couldn't remember if that was good or bad. He pulled the covers out of Nix's grip enough to get one hot water bottle against his chest and the other between his legs. Nix muttered something indistinct, and Dick leaned in, and this time caught a murmured, "You came back."

"Course I did," Dick said, swallowing past the tightness in his throat.

There'd be a minute before the kettle boiled, so Dick stripped to his skivvies and slid into bed behind Nix. His skin was shockingly cold, even though the pyjamas, and for once Dick's hands were warm against Nix's stomach as Dick wrapped their bodies together. He closed his eyes and willed the heat to leave his body and pour into Nix's—for the health to leave his lungs and stop Nix's cough, which kept shuddering through his body.

He held on. That had been what he'd kept saying, two winters before. All they had to do was hold on, and they'd get through. Dick squeezed tighter, and Nix muttered a protest.

Dick heard the kettle whistle. He didn't want to leave again, but he thought getting something warm inside Nix, and maybe trying to feed him some of that cough medicine, might help him sleep. When Dick started to disentangle their bodies, Nix caught his wrist and held on with more strength than he'd shown the whole night.

"I'll be back in a minute," Dick said, and kissed the back of Nix's head. It was enough to get Nix to let go, but Dick lingered, resiting the call of the now screaming kettle. When he finally got up, he tucked the covers in tight behind Nix and patted his shoulder on the way by.

He sliced a lemon into the teapot before filling it and scooped honey in after that. On reflection, he added another spoon of honey after the first two.

"Think you can sit up a bit?" Dick asked.

Nix shook his head decisively enough to negate his point. Dick didn't think he was shivering quite so badly, but it was hard to tell. He poured a cup of tea and set it aside to cool, then arranged the pillows in a pile for Nix to lean on.

"Just let me sleep!" Nix protested as Dick pulled him to a half-sitting position. "Haven't slept in, I don't know, years maybe. Since this damn cold."

"I know, I know," Dick soothed. "Just a minute. He measured a spoon of the cough syrup, and said, "I'm sure this tastes awful, drink up."

From the face Nix made, it did taste awful, but he was blinking and awake enough to both make the face and pull the blankets up to his chin, which was what Dick wanted to see. Dick got back in bed beside Nix. Sitting shoulder to shoulder with his back against the bare headboard as he'd sacrificed his pillow to Nix's pile.

"How you feeling?" Dick asked.

"Terrible," Nix answered. "Might be dying. You should hold me."

"Drink you tea," Dick told him, but slid an arm behind Nix's head and pulled him in close.

"Too hot," Nix grumbled. He was still shivering, and Dick wondered if he should get up and find a hat. Roe had said hats were important.

"Be a heck of a thing if you survived the Ardennes and froze to death in New Jersey," Dick said to fill the silence and cover Nix's chattering teeth.

"Dunno," Nix muttered, "sounds like something I'd do." He tried to sip the tea, burned his tongue but kept holding onto the mug anyway. The tea jumped and splashed against the rim of the cup. He gave Dick a sidelong look and asked, "You get any dinner?"

Dick shook his head. "Not hungry."

Nix snorted at that, and this time got a small sip of the tea down. "Hey, Dick."

"Yeah?"

"Would you, uh"—Nix paused and looked down, buried his face in the mug without drinking any—"would you stay down here tonight? I know you think you have to go in first thing, but..."

But Dick had been sleeping away from Nix for a week, the longest they'd been apart since Dick had moved in—"Just until I find a place"—the winter before. "I'll call in sick," Dick said, and went to get another pillow.


End file.
